People

By D. H. (David Herbert) Lawrence 1885–1930
The great gold apples of night
Hang from the street's long bough
       Dripping their light
On the faces that drift below,
On the faces that drift and blow
Down the night-time, out of sight
       In the wind's sad sough.

The ripeness of these apples of night
Distilling over me
       Makes sickening the white
Ghost-flux of faces that hie
Them endlessly, endlessly by
Without meaning or reason why
       They ever should be.

Source: Poetry (July 1918).

MORE FROM THIS ISSUE

This poem originally appeared in the July 1918 issue of Poetry magazine

View this poem in its original format

July 1918
 D. H. (David Herbert) Lawrence

Biography

English writer D.H. Lawrence’s prolific and diverse output included novels, short stories, poems, plays, essays, travel books, paintings, translations, and literary criticism. His collected works represent an extended reflection upon the dehumanizing effects of modernity and industrialization. In them, Lawrence confronts issues relating to emotional health and vitality, spontaneity, human sexuality and instinct. After a brief . . .

Continue reading this biography

Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Social Commentaries, Cities & Urban Life

POET’S REGION England

SCHOOL / PERIOD Modern

Poetic Terms Imagery, Rhymed Stanza, Consonance

Report a problem with this poem


Your results will be limited to content that appeared in Poetry magazine.

Search Every Issue of Poetry

Originally appeared in Poetry magazine.

This poem has learning resources.

This poem is good for children.

This poem has related video.

This poem has related audio.